A Tainted Lily
by xxrosethorn
Summary: Calla was born and bred to be the perfect Slytherin. Yet despite her blood, Calla hates the pressure and expectations thrust upon her. On a whim, she confesses her feelings in a letter that she leaves inside a library book. She is surprised when she receives an anonymous response, which begins a relationship none would expect.
1. July 31, 1991

**July 31, 1991**

Calla was completely uninterested in whatever her cousin had to say. As far as she was concerned, he was a miniature version of his father, which was not a compliment in the slightest. Yet, they were cousins, her and Draco, which meant that she had to at least pretend to listen to him talk about how successful he would be when they finally attended Hogwarts in September.

"I'm telling you, Calla, I'll be on the Quidditch team in my first year and I'll be the top of the class…" He said smugly.

"They don't put first years on the Quidditch team," she replied with a sigh.

"They will once they see me fly," Draco gloated. Calla loathed how full of himself he acted. No humility. No sense of gratitude that his parents were fortunate enough to provide for him. She didn't entirely blame him alone for his attitude. She knew Uncle Lucius had basically engrained it into her cousin's mind that he was entitled to the world.

Calla rolled her eyes, but didn't continue the subject. Her eyes focused on the sights of Diagon Alley. Despite being raised in the magical world, the young eleven-year-old was still enthralled by all forms of magic. She would never show her excitement, but Calla was thrilled to finally be able to obtain the necessary materials for her first year at Hogwarts.

"There's Madam Malkin's," she pointed out and dragged her obnoxious cousin inside before he could say something particularly annoying.

"Welcome, dears," the friendly elder woman greeted. "First year at Hogwarts?"

"Obviously," Draco retorted.

"Well come on, then. Let's get you fitted," she remarked.

"Thank you," Calla said graciously before being led into a dressing room.

Calla remained still as the dresser took her measurements and quickly created the perfect-sized robes. They were a basic black with no House emblem. She knew that once she was sorted, the robes would automatically change to indicate her House.

By the time Calla was finished, Draco had just finished a conversation with another boy. Another first year, she presumed, but before she could get a good look at him, Draco dragged her out of the shop and toward the brooms.

"Let go," Calla demanded once they were in front of the store. He released his grip and focused on the Nimbus 2000 with a look of greed. "I'm going to the bookstore," she said simply and Draco was too distracted to hear her.

Calla was a reader. She loved learning about magic and while she had a list of the required textbooks for school, Calla intended to purchase a few (no more than ten, her father warned) for recreational reading.

She was so engrossed in reading all the titles that she didn't realize she had bumped into someone. A scrawny boy with black hair and thick frames. "I'm so sorry," she immediately apologized. "I can't help myself when I'm around books," she smiled politely.

"No worries," he smiled back. "I was really interested in this one book as well." He showed her the book in question: Curses and Countercurses.

"Who do you want to perform those on?" She asked, genuinely interested.

"My cousin. He's a bully and I just want to torment him for once," he explained sheepishly.

Calla laughed wholeheartedly and the boy blushed. "Not a bad idea. I wouldn't mind doing the same to _my cousin_. But I think these spells are a bit beyond our level."

The boy laughed in return. "Probably."

"Harry!" A large man, giant's blood Calla guessed, called out and the boy turned.

"I gotta go," the boy called Harry said before rushing off. "Hope to see you again!"

Calla smiled. She realized she would very much like to see this Harry again.

The young girl collected her books for purchase (including the ten extra) and left Flourish and Botts. She noticed Draco and his parents and caught up with them.

"Where were you?" Draco hissed, annoyed. "One minute you were next to me, the next second you were gone!"

Calla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had told him where she was going. Instead of answering, she showed him her pile of books as an explanation.

"Don't wander off. Your father asked us to watch over you," her aunt Narcissa said worriedly.

"Yes, Auntie. My apologies," she replied sotically, resuming her high society persona.

"Now, let's get your wands," Narcissa said with a smile. Draco's mood visibly improved and Calla perked up in excitement.

Ollivander's was a narrow and old shop. Draco and his parents looked uncomfortable at best to enter such a tattered and small store. The old man, Garrick Ollivander, approached the two children.

"Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Snape are here for their wands, I presume?"

"Yes," Lucius Malfoy replied curtly.

"Go on, Draco," his mother pushed him forward first.

"Hold out your arm," the elderly man demanded and Draco held out his right arm for measurement.

Ollivander quickly pulled out some wands for Draco to try. It only took four attempts to find a match-hawthorn, ten inches, with unicorn hair. Draco beamed and his mother looked especially proud.

"Ms. Snape, if you will," he said, a little more politely than before.

She held out her left hand for a quick measurement. Calla was unfortunate to have to go through twelve wands before finding a match. On her thirteenth attempt, Calla flicked the wand and a surge of warmth engulfed her.

Upon the match, Ollivander's eyes showed delight. "Ah yes, 9 inches, beech wood with a phoenix feather. A truly powerful combination."

"Thank you," Calla replied graciously as she accepted the wand. The eleven-year-old couldn't wait for September 1st, when she would board the train to Hogwarts.


	2. September 1, 1991

**September 1, 1991**

Calla's father would not be taking her to the train station. She was not surprised to be honest. Unlike most parents who would not see their children until the winter holidays, Calla was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough that she would be seeing her father amongst the staff of Hogwarts.

Thus, Calla was stuck with her cousin Draco once more. That was the essence of most of her childhood. When her father was teaching over the course of the year, Calla was stuck with her brat of a cousin. She didn't blame her father, not really. If anyone, she blamed her mother, but she was not in the mood to discuss _that_.

Calla and the Malfoy family arrived at King's Cross Station promptly at 10:30 am, giving enough time to board the train with their luggage. On purpose, Calla "lost" her way in order to avoid sitting with the blond-haired boy. She knew that other purebloods would flock to the Malfoy heir.

The young dark-haired girl found an empty compartment and pulled out one of her books. She had already read through the majority of her first-year books and was focusing on some advanced potions. She was interrupted by a familiar black-haired boy. He attempted to lift his luggage, but his scrawny figure was too weak and he dropped it, causing Calla to giggle. She was about to offer assistance, but twin ginger-haired older boys offered first.

"Blimey, are you," one started.

"He is," finished the other. "Aren't you?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Harry Potter," the twins remarked at the same time.

"Oh, him," Harry visibly deflated. "I mean, yes I am."

They were about to comment on it until a mother's voice called their names. The twins responded and returned to their mother. Harry showed a look of relief and sat down in the compartment.

"The problems with being famous?" Calla asked suddenly, closing the book and setting it aside.

Harry brightened upon recognizing her. "I never caught your name last time," he said.

"I'm Calla," she replied. "And you're Harry Potter." Harry sighed, but nodded.

"I grew up in the muggle world," he confessed. "So all of this is really new to me."

Calla nodded. "It's a lot to take in," she agreed. "Even for someone who grew up with a father who's a Hogwarts professor."

"Your father teaches at Hogwarts?"

"Yes. He's always been rather strict with me growing up, but he's notorious for showing favoritism to his House."

"Can you explain to me the Houses? Hagrid mentioned it, but I don't really understand it."

"Yeah, there's four. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. They each represent specific traits and at the beginning of the year, first years are sorted into one of the Houses for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts."

"What do they each represent?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Slytherin, the cunning. Hufflepuff, the loyal. Gryffindor, the brave. And Ravenclaw, the intelligent." She squinted at Harry as if she was examining him. "You seem like the Gryffindor type to be honest."

"Me? I wouldn't call myself brave, though."

Calla shrugged. "It's not really up to you." She sighed. "I'll probably be Slytherin… No, I need to be in Slytherin."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not really, but well… you know the term pureblood?"

"Kinda. It's someone who comes from a family of wizards, right?"

"It's a bit more than that. Purebloods are referred to families that don't have any muggle blood in them. Most witches and wizards are half-bloods because it's incredibly rare to be considered a pureblood. Anyway, Salazar, the House founder of Slytherin, was a pureblood elitist who believed that purebloods were superior than half-bloods and muggleborns."

"Are they?"

"Of course not! It's rubbish, but a lot of purebloods nowadays still believe it and now Slytherin is just infected with that attitude. My cousin is a prime example. I don't really believe it but my family has always been Slytherin and still firmly believes in those values."

"So why not join another House?"

Calla shook her head. "I think my father might disown me if that were to happen, especially Gryffindor. He loathes them."

Harry was about to reply when a red-headed boy opened the compartment. He looked to be the younger sibling of the twins. "Do you mind if I join? Everywhere else is full," the boy asked shyly.

Calla somehow doubted that. "That's fine," she replied politely. Harry nodded in confirmation.

"I'm Ron." Ron smiled and sat down next to Harry. "Are you really him?" He suddenly asked.

Calla frowned. _Of course that's why he asked to join_.

Harry nodded.

"And have you got… you know..?"

Harry showed him the lightning-shaped scar and Ron looked amazed.

"So that's where You-Know-Who…?"

"Yes, but I can't remember it," Harry explained.

"Nothing?" Ron persisted.

"Just a lot of green light, but that's it." Harry turned to the window uncomfortably.

Calla changed topics suddenly, attempting to lighten the mood. "Do you know what House you'd like to be in, Ron?"

"Gryffindor, of course. That's obviously the best House. Plus, all my family have been Gryffindor."

Calla nodded, not sharing her opinion on the matter.

"Are all your family wizards?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Yes, I think so," Ron replied, thinking for a moment. "We might have a distant cousin that's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already," Harry commented.

"Children aren't allowed to perform magic outside of school," Calla explained. "It will be a first for all of us," she emphasized. Harry grinned, glad to know that he wouldn't be the only one who would be performing magic for the first time.

Ron suddenly pulled out his pet rat, whom he called Scabbers.

Calla gave a look of disgust. It looked almost dead and it was missing a toe. "Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't afford-I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

"At least you have a pet," Calla offered. "My father hates animals. Says I don't need an owl since he works at the school and cats are too much of a hassle."

Ron seemed a little more happy to know that. Harry also told him about how he had no money until Hagrid had told him back in July that he was a wizard.

"I didn't know anything about being a wizard, or my parents, or Voldemort…"

Ron gasped.

"What?" He looked confused.

"You called You-Know-Who by his name!"

"Oh, well, I didn't do it on purpose. I just don't know any better." He said glumly. "I bet I'm going to be an awful wizard…"

Calla laughed. "Hardly," she said. "Harry, there are tons of muggleborns who don't know anything about magic. You aren't the first and you won't be the last. Give yourself a chance."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Calla!"

"Of course."

The three kids continued to talk until Harry's stomach growled loudly. The boy blushed brightly while Ron and Calla laughed.

"Hungry?"

Harry nodded shyly. "Didn't have breakfast," he explained weakly.

"That's okay, the trolley should be coming by any moment now."

Just as Calla predicted, the cart came by with a kind lady offering some treats for sale.

Calla bought some pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, while Harry, who never had any wizarding candy before, bought a little of everything. He, of course, offered some to Ron and Calla. She denied, but Ron grabbed some greedily, not used to the generosity.

At some point, another first-year boy asked if anyone had seen his toad. The three children all shook their heads and he continued on frantically.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron commented. "If I had a toad, I would want to lose him immediately. Although, I have Scabbers, so I can't talk."

Harry laughed and Calla shook her head. "Want to see a spell? Fred and George taught me how to turn him yellow."

Harry nodded eagerly and Calla rolled her eyes, but expressed her interest as well.

He was about to cast the spell when a girl with bushy hair entered this time. "Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said with a bossy tone.

"No, we have not," Calla responded curtly.

The girl focused on Ron's wand. "Oh, are you doing a spell? Let's see it then," she said in a commanding tone.

Ron cleared his throat, surprised by the girl's sudden interest. "_Sunshine daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._" Calla, upon hearing the incantation, choked on a laugh.

Calla wasn't surprised that nothing happened. The girl commented on the lack of success. "Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Calla blinked, surprised that this girl, Hermione, was able to say all that so quickly.

"I'm Calla," she replied tursely.

"Ron Weasely."

"Er, Harry Potter," he said hesitantly.

"Are you really? I've learned all about you, of course." She mentioned a few titled that he was listed in.

"Am I?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . Anyway, I should probably help Neville find his toad. You three should change soon. I suspect that we should be arriving shortly." She left and Calla let out a breath of relief.

"Whatever House she's in, I hope I'm not in it." Calla laughed and agreed.

"Didn't you hear? She wants to be in Gryffindor. You better get used to her," Calla teased.

Ron shook his head in disgust. "I guess I would rather be stuck with her in Gryffindor than Slytherin," he said darkly.

Calla turned away. Harry glanced at her in concern, but focused his attention back on Ron. "Why is Slytherin so bad?"

"Don't you know? You-Know-Who was in that House! There hasn't been a wizard that hasn't gone bad in Slytherin," Ron stated.

"Merlin was in Slytherin," Calla commented dryly.

Ron ignored her. "Anyway, what's your Quidditch team?" He asked Harry.

"I don't know any," he confessed and Ron looked floored. He began a rant of how Quidditch was the best sport and started explaining all the rules of the game. Calla began to tune out until the compartment door was opened again.

"So it's true, then? They're saying that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, right?" A boy said and Calla immediately recognized the voice. She internally groaned.

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco introduced uncaringly. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He sounded so proud of his name that Calla rolled her eyes. Ron coughed a laugh.

"Calla?" He asked once he noticed her. "I've been looking all over for you," he said, slightly annoyed.

"Yes, well, forgive me if I don't want to spend all my time with you," she responded, almost irritated.

He turned his attention to the red-head. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to tell me who you are. My father told me about the Weasleys. Red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Draco smirked at Ron's blush.

He focused back on Harry once more. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Harry understood immediately that this Draco Malfoy was what Calla described as a pureblood elitist. He glared at the pale boy and responded, "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

Calla held back a smile. Draco looked furious. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit more polite you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." He suddenly grabbed Calla's wrist. "Let's go, Calla."

He dragged her off, not giving Calla even the slightest chance to say her goodbyes. Not that she would have. She had a reputation to live by. She couldn't just refute her cousin's words and refuse what her family has ingrained for the majority of her life. She shouldn't be surprised. Harry Potter was much too nice for the likes of her.

Calla was now stuck in Draco's compartment for the remainder of the trip. She changed into her robes and left the train, leaving her luggage on. She knew that it would magically appear at her dorm later. Hagrid called all the first-years to the boats that they would take to the main campus.

Calla's father never took her to Hogwarts. When he left for the school term, he would leave her with the Malfoys and that would be that. She was amazed like everyone else just how large, extravagant, and beautiful the school was.

The first years were greeted by a stern older woman known as Professor McGonagall. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

She gave a quick explanation about the Houses and the sorting ceremony before guiding them into the banquet hall filled with older students and the staff.

Professor McGonagall began listing their names in alphabetical order by last name. Calla was unsurprised when Draco was quickly sorted into Slytherin. Hermione became a Gryffindor as did Harry. The sorting hat took its time with him, but ultimately decided upon the House of the brave.

"Calla Snape," the woman called finally and she stepped forward. She tried to ignore the whispers of the students. They all knew of Professor Snape. None knew of his daughter.

She waited for the hat to be placed on her head.

"Ah, another tricky one," the hat said with a chuckle.

"Another?"

"He found his place in the end," the hat replied dismissively. "But what about you, girl? Your blood demands Slytherin."

"You know where to put me, then," she stated stoically.

"Your blood wants it, but _you_ do not."

"It does not matter what I want."

"Are you sure? You would do well as Ravenclaw or even Gryffindor."

"Don't you dare," she hissed in warning.

The hat laughed. "Yes, yes. I know exactly where you belong. SLYTHERIN!"

_Where you belong_. Without any sign of emotion, Calla found her place next to her cousin. It was where she belonged, of course. Without any doubt.

She glanced at her father who gave the slightest nod of approval.

_Where you belong._

She wouldn't let herself think for the slightest moment that she belonged anywhere else.

Calla's eyes met Harry's. He looked confused and disappointed. She turned her attention back to Draco, who was gloating about something.

She definitely didn't belong where he was. Definitely not.


	3. August 3, 1996

**August 3, 1996**

"I'm not a child, mother. I'm perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone," Draco hissed in annoyance.

Calla rolled her eyes. As always, Draco was acting like a child, whining about his mother's fodling. He wanted to appear like an adult, but this very act proved otherwise.

"You don't act like it, Draco," she commented.

He threw her a glare as Madam Malkin continued to make the proper adjustments for his robes.

Calla noticed Potter, Granger, and Weasley looking at them before Draco did. She internally sighed. She had no doubt a fight would be started as soon as Draco opened his mouth.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," Draco said haughtily.

"It could just be you," Calla mumbled to herself, not expecting anyone to hear her.

Potter gave her a strange look, but returned his attention to the Malfoy boy.

"Don't," Granger tried to calm down her friends. "Honestly, it's not worth it."

Calla was inclined to agree.

Draco continued his rude remarks and both Weasley and Potter pointed their wands at Draco.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'd like to see you try," she said menacingly. Calla's own wand was drawn, pointed at the two boys. "We all know who's the better duelist." She commented, referring back to their second year.

Narcissa Malfoy intervened at this moment. If there was one person to fear, it was perhaps Draco's mother. "Put those away," Narcissa commanded, glaring. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensue it's the last thing you do."

Calla whole-heartedly believed it.

Potter didn't back down. "Really? Going to get a few of your Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

_If only he knew._

Calla smiled viciously. "Careful Potter. Dumbledore won't always be here to protect you."

Potter smirked, as if expecting her to say that. "He's not here now!" He mocked. He turned toward Narcissa tauntingly. "So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Draco made a movement in anger, but stumbled on his long robes. The trio laughed.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that," he snarled.

"It's all right, dear," his mother said in a frighteningly calm voice. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

_And this was why you didn't mess with Narcissa._

Potter, furious, raised his wand higher. Calla stepped in front of her aunt to block him. "One move, Potter, and you will wish you were with Sirius."

Granger interfered, attempting to calm him down. Potter and Calla glared at each other, waiting for one to say something, anything to the other.

"What happened to that girl on the train?" He finally asked.

"She died," Calla said simply.

"Mother, I don't want these anymore," Draco said referring to the robes.

"You're right," she sniffed. "Now that I know what kind of scum that shops here… We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Come along, Calla." Their eyes never left each other until Calla and the Malfoys left the shop.

_What happened to the girl on the train? _Calla frowned at the thought.

_Why would he ask such a thing? She's been dead for a while._

She couldn't be alive. Not anymore. Not after all that's happened.

Calla gripped her arm.

Not after what she's done.


	4. September 2, 1996

**September 2, 1996**

Calla disliked Dumbledore for one reason: classes with the Gryffindors. She never understood why he so firmly believed it wouldn't result in a disaster.

She didn't know if she was happy for her father now that he was finally teaching his favorite subject. He always excelled at Potions, something she inherited, but his passion lied in the Dark Arts.

She didn't share that trait with her father. Calla loved Potions. Perhaps it was because it connected her with her father, who barely spoke to her. Perhaps it was because she liked making things that did more good than harm.

Perhaps it was because she ever so slightly wanted to become a Healer, not that she would ever admit that. No, her destiny was already laid out for her.

Regardless, Dumbledore gave both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions with the Gryffindors on the same day. Calla knew she was in for a long day.

She was early to her father's class. She knew how much punctuality meant to him. Calla sat next to Draco, as usual. She was determined to not pay attention to anything Potter did or said.

"You've had five teachers in the subject so far, I believe," her father began his lesson. "Naturally these teachers had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O. W. L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N. E. W. T. work, which will be more advanced."

Professor Snape delved into the topic of the Dark Arts with a sense of passion Calla didn't know he possessed. "Now, I am to believe you are all novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Except her. She had spent hours upon hours with her father practicing non-verbal spells that summer. Among other things. Honestly, it was the most time Calla spent with him in years. She remained silent, unwilling to answer the question.

Granger, of course, shot her hand up, prepared to recite an answer word-for-word from a textbook. Professor Snape glanced around the room, glared at his daughter for not raising her hand, before allowing the Gryffindor to answer.

"You will now divide into pairs," he ordered. "One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Most of the students cheated by whispering the spells instead actually trying for non-verbals. Granger eventually managed to succeed, while Calla and Draco whispered amongst themselves instead of actually performing the lesson.

"So we'll start tonight," Draco said. Calla could sense his fear even if he did well in hiding it.

"That's fine. Meet at designated spot at 8?"

"Yeah."

"Ms. Snape!" Her father barked suddenly.

"Yes, professor?"

"Show Weasley how a non-verbal spell is done," he ordered.

Calla sighed, but complied as she took her position against Potter. Potter glared at her and Calla focused on appearing disinterested.

With ease, Calla flicked her wand in silence.

She was unprepared for Potter's shout of "_Protego_!"

She was even more unprepared for the power of said spell as she was knocked off balance and forced against a desk. A loud thunk could be heard as she struck her head against the wood. Draco rushed to her side, helping her up.

"Potter!" Her father seethed in anger. "Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells?"

"Yes," Potter responded.

"Yes, _sir_."

"There's no need to call me 'sir' Professor," Potter retorted.

She had never seen her father so angry. "Detention, Saturday night." He ordered swiftly. "I do not take cheek from anyone. Not even the Chosen One."

Her father dismissed the class shortly thereafter. "Ms. Snape, please stay for a moment."

Calla didn't want to, but she would never dare to disobey her father.

The students flooded out, all but glad to leave. Draco shared her a look, but she nodded, saying that it was fine and that he didn't need to wait for her.

Once they were safely alone, her father asked if she was alright.

"I'm fine, sir," she responded.

"Do you need something for the pain?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine," she repeated more firmly.

Her father sighed. "If you need any help, please come to me." He was referring to more than just the pain.

"Thank you," she replied, still remaining stoic.

He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "You know that I'm doing all that I can? To protect you and Malfoy-"

"_I know_," she finished. "But you didn't protect me from _him_."

"Calla," he said pleadingly.

"If that is all, I need to go to my next class." She didn't wait for a response before leaving the classroom, leaving her father alone.

She had developed a new habit of holding her arm when she was nervous.


End file.
